


Of Course, My Love

by baddiethemattie



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Carrying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, He calls her Lottie, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Romantic Fluff, She calls him Teddie, Ted carries Charlotte, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's really cute, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28188969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baddiethemattie/pseuds/baddiethemattie
Summary: On the List of Things Ted Spankoffski Hates, rain is only slightly beaten out by Sam for top spot.On the List of Things Ted Spankoffski Loves, however...
Relationships: Charlotte/Sam (mentioned), Charlotte/Ted, Charlotte/Ted Spankoffski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Of Course, My Love

It’s raining. Again. On the List of Things Ted Spankoffski Hates, rain is only slightly beaten out by Sam for top spot. Ted sighs, knowing that this means he won’t be able to walk Charlotte home, knows it means she’ll call a cab because Sam would get upset if she got her coat wet, knows it means missing out on time with Her.

He lets out a sigh, the warm air fogging up the glass he’s been staring out of. He absentmindedly traces a pattern, a lace-lined heart with the letters T + C written in cursive script inside. Imagining if he’d met her in high school, if he hadn’t been so occupied with smoking weed and trying to hook up with cheerleaders, if he’d gotten to her before Sam had. If they’d had just one class together, if he’d gone to after school tutoring, if, if, if.

His mind is snapped back to the present by a small figure pressing itself against his side. Ted jumps. 

“Teddie, it’s just me, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He hates himself every time this happens, every time he flinches away from her, every time he jumps at the sound of her voice, every time he wakes up to her hands pressed against his chest, shaking him, calling out his name, every time he lets her, no, needs her to hold him and rock him as he falls back asleep, he hates himself. He should be strong. 

He’s Ted Spankoffski, he’s a douchebag, an asshole, a side piece, someone Charlotte uses to numb herself from the pain of a loveless marriage. He’s Ted, cut off from his family, Ted, who goes home alone most nights, Ted, who is only loved by bottles of booze and packages of cigars, Ted Fucking Spankoffski.

But with Charlotte…

No. He can’t let himself imagine that it’s love. He can’t pretend that he’s anything more than self-medicating to her. He cannot, under any circumstances, catch feelings for her.

But she’s next to him, and his breath hasn’t fogged up the pattern yet, and neither of them has said anything for minutes, and he turns to her and she’s tracing the pattern with her fingers, a couple tears falling down her cheeks, and he. Loses it.

“Lottie, please, I’m sorry, I know, I know, it’s stupid and you don’t feel the same and-”

All of a sudden she’s at his feet, arms wrapped around his legs, sobbing. Broken wails, interrupted by tiny hitches as she breathes in, no words coming out of her mouth.

“Lottie? Wha- wha- what is this?”

He regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth. Doesn’t even bother correcting, he just falls down to his feet next to her, gently moving her hands from his legs to his neck, letting her hold onto him, he envelops her in a hug, rubbing tiny circles on the small of her back, whispering small shushes into her hair as he holds her.

-

It’s half past five and Charlotte is still having a panic attack. Ted sends a silent thank you to whoever is in charge of the world that he went up to the abandoned fifth floor to stand in the hallway. 

“Lottie, you need to get home, Sam’s shift ends at 8. I’ll call a cab.” But she shakes her head vigorously at this, she grasps onto the collar of his shirt tighter, she buries her face in his chest, and he knows he can’t leave her alone like this. “Okay. Okay, no cab, how ‘bout I walk you home? I know it’s raining, but…” He trails off as she shakes her head again, softer now that she knows he’s listening, “Okay. Okay. Fuck. Okay. Fuck it.”

Making sure her arms are secured tightly around his neck, he places a hand on her back and below her knees and stands up swiftly. She’s so small that it barely takes any effort, and here he is. Holding her in his arms, cradling her against his chest. He walks to the elevator, fumbles around and manages to hit the button with his elbow, does the same to press the ground-floor button. He prays that Melissa has gone home, but as the doors slide open he sees her still at her desk, looking straight at him. She places one finger to her pursed lips, and goes back to her sudoku.

He shifts Charlotte so she is held up by a knee and one arm, balls up her coat and hands it to her, then takes his own and drapes it over her, not caring if he gets wet at this point. 

She doesn’t live far, a five minute walk at most, and he treasures this time even more than he usually does. Her breath warm against his shivering body, her hands buried in his shirt, her ear pressed against his chest.

A pit of dread appears in his stomach when he sees her house. He doesn’t want this to end. Doesn’t want to set her down, doesn’t want to walk home, doesn’t want to leave her. 

He shifts her around so that he can enter the code to her garage, her birthday, 11-24, shifts her back into his arms, and, reminding himself Sam isn’t home, steps into her home. It’s not an unfamiliar place, he’s spent plenty of time here with her, he knows every detail, every crack on her kitchen counter, every tiny tear in her couch, he has the texture of her bedsheets permanently on his mind. 

He carries her all the way into the bedroom, also a familiar feeling, but it’s never been like this. Charlotte has always been the strong one, the tough one, the stoic one. At least when they’re alone. He sets her down on the bed, making sure to pull the sheets up over her, and turns the lights off, backing out. He’s pretty sure she’s asleep.

“Teddie?”

“Yes, Lottie?”

“There’s a set of new locks underneath the sink in the laundry room. Change them for me?”

“Of course, my love.”


End file.
